Sneak Peek | Short Story | Erotica
Queen without Clothes — an excerpt
Rear Windows Make Great Social Distancing
The pandemic and the lockdown are definitely getting under my writer’s skin. I’ve been working on a new collection of short stories and already three stories deal with the crisis in some way. I didn’t plan this, it just happened. Here’s a little sneak preview of the latest one. It’s about a young engineer who — because of the lockdown — is alone at the offices of the company she works at.
She took her mug, now filled with milky coffee, back to her desk. She sat down and gazed out the window overlooking the neighbourhood. Her eye caught the movement of shifting curtains in the windows of the building opposite her. She knew someone lived in the attic over there. To be more precise, she’d seen a young man — probably a student — watering his plant near the window. He’d placed a small table there recently. It was likely, Carola thought, that because of the pandemic, he had to continue his studies or maybe his work from home, and so he’d decided that sitting at the window would at least give him some semblance of remaining part of the world. He drew the curtains and placed a laptop on the table. The distance between them, about thirty metres, was not far enough to keep him from noticing her. She smiled and wanted to wave but decided against it. She didn’t want to come across as socially desperate, even though that’s how she felt. She couldn’t quite make out if he smiled back, but he clearly didn’t wave. He just sat down and opened his laptop. Carola took the hint, and got to work too.
The morning passed pretty quickly. Her stomach was growling, telling her it was already half past one. Attic Boy was still there. She’d glanced over at him here and there just to check. It was soothing to have someone else working in the vicinity. It made her feel less disconnected. Once, he had looked up at her at the same time as she had looked at him, and their glances locked, lingered, but no real contact followed. She stretched in her chair and pushed herself off the desk. She rolled along for a few metres. She used her feet to push off again, the force of her leg muscles giving her some genuine speed. ‘Woooooo…’ she yelled into the empty space. As she came to a standstill, an idea formed in her mind. She stood up and dragged the swivel chair to a part of the attic where she couldn’t bump into anything. She grabbed the armchairs and started a run-up. After gaining some speed, she jumped onto the seat with her knees and rode the chair, whooping happily and childishly. She rolled again and again, back and forth, yelling louder and louder. Only after a while did she notice that the young man in his own attic across the way had stood up to watch her passing from window to window. Being in an exuberant mood, she waved to him with abandon, causing him to grin broadly and wave back. As she continued rolling along, he gestured as if he were cheering her on. She stopped in front of the window near her desk and did a pirouette of sorts on her chair. He applauded as she held up her arms in the air, the turns making her bright red hair wave. She stood and walked towards the window, leaning against it with her hands. Attic Boy mimicked her, and so they stood, staring at each other, their hands flat against the glass. Carola sensed a compulsion bubbling up from inside her that had been dormant for some time now. She wouldn’t give into it, of course, but in her mind she could already see herself pulling up her jumper and pressing her boobs against the cold glass surface, her nipples tightening, sending signals to her brain, urging her hands to rid her breasts of the simple, yet constrictive, cotton bra to which she was strapped. Attic Boy look astonished at first, but quickly gave in to admiration, the look in his eyes sending shivers down her spine, penetrating her tummy, and settling between her thighs. Why refrain? she thought suddenly. This was a crisis, one that called for desperate measures. Her left hand lowered to the edge of her jumper, but just as she was about to pull it up, she got another, even better idea. She slipped her hand under the jumper and turned her arm behind her back. She flicked the clasp open and slipped off her bra. Like a magician pulling an endless kerchief out of her sleeve, she tugged her bra, bit by bit, into the line of sight from underneath her jumper. All the while she carefully observed Attic Boy. Considering the intensity of his stare, she was sure she’d gotten his undivided attention. She seductively dangled her bra in front of her like a trophy before swinging it over and behind her head. She then placed the edge of her jumper between her fingers and slowly rolled it up towards her breasts. Her aim was to reveal her boobs by pushing the rolled-up fabric up against them until they popped out.
She’d been called plump in middle school, which nowadays would be considered ‘curvy’. She’d known that although her male classmates weren’t outwardly complimenting her, inside, they were excited, positively triggered by the emergence of her adolescent tits. She took pride in them. No other sentiment was needed. The first time a boy, Sebastian, had licked, then sucked, on her nipples and her large, round, pale areolas, she’d felt like a queen. The fact that he did so while on his knees certainly added to the sensation. She let him put his half-limp penis between them, relishing the feeling of it growing into a hard, pulsating cock. He came very quickly, squirting his semen into her chin. The smell and taste of it, so salty, reminded her of the coast of Brittany, where she’d spent her happiest holiday a couple of years before. In the end, Sebastian had been clueless about, maybe even indifferent to, her satisfaction, so they left the experience at that. From her bedroom window, a teenage Carola massaged her clit as she watched Sebastian cross the street. She fantasised that he would turn around just in time to see her climax. But her fantasy went even further. She wanted all the people on the street, everyone, to look up at her, to be captivated by her sexual indiscretion. She snapped out of the fantasy, though, when she suddenly realised there was indeed someone watching her from across the street — her neighbour, Mrs Plath, doing some ironing on the first floor, directly opposite her — Carola backed away and crashed onto her bed, blushing a shameful red. Later that week, at the local supermarket, she ran into Mrs Plath, who gave her a strange look — not strange, ambivalent. Carola couldn’t tell whether the look was one of disapproval or suppressed arousal.
‘Queen without Clothes’ is the title story of my latest book.
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